The Shadow and the Tree
by Fingersnaps
Summary: This is a sequel to 'The Rock Remains' and picks up immediately where that story left off. The repercussions of Tim's arrest continue to affect everyone on the team. There are mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic, but if that upsets you, don't read...
1. Chapter 1

**The Shadow and the Tree**

Tim turned to walk toward the door and home, but the room started spinning, and suddenly he was sweating, he staggered slightly, tried to take a deep breath to clear his head; then everything went black.

"Whoa there McGee! I've got you."

Tony was the first to see that Tim was not going to make it to the door, he grabbed Tim's arm and steadied him. Gibbs helped him ease Tim gently to the floor.

"I knew this would be too much for him…I should have insisted that he go home, instead of listening to that venomous creature."

Ducky knelt beside Tim and reached out to check his pulse.

"Don't! Don't touch me!"

Tim pushed Ducky away and tried to sit up. His face was flushed and glistening with beads of perspiration, his eyes flicking from face to face…a sudden flash of recognition and he was immediately contrite.

"Sorry Ducky…forgot where I was for a minute…what am I doing on the floor?"

He tried to sit up again, but was restrained gently by Tony.

"Stay where you are…you keeled over…hey McGee, when did you last have something to eat?"

"I…I think I had a sandwich…can't remember…last night? I'm not hungry…just tired, I'll be okay when I get home, get some sleep…"

Ducky gestured to Gibbs and Tony to lift Tim.

"Jethro, would you be so good as to give us a life home? And I mean my home Timothy, I want to keep an eye on you…you still have a fever, and I want to be sure you get some proper nourishment."

"Honestly Ducky, there's no need, I'm only going to be sleeping…"

"Indeed you are, but not until you have had something to eat, we can call in at your apartment and collect what you need for a few days; no argument Timothy, doctor's orders!"

Tim was standing under the hot jets of water, washing away the stench of that disgusting place where he had been held, trying to wash away the memories, the fear...he wasn't proud to admit, it even to himself, but he had been so scared. If the other men in lock-up had discovered that he was a Federal Agent, he was pretty sure that the beating he would have received then would have been a lot worse than the blows he had taken from Fornell and Sacks.

He switched off the water and immediately started to shiver; he towelled himself dry, and put on his pyjamas. He smiled a little as he hung the wet towel on the rack to dry, the only reason he owned any pyjamas was because his mother lived in fear of him being on vacation and only having old T-shirts and boxers to wear for bed. Another bout of shivering started his teeth chattering and he figured it was time to get into bed, and sleep at last.

Ducky had refused Tim's help in making up the bed in the guest bedroom.

"Timothy, you are practically out on your feet, you get into the shower and I will get us some supper, after that it's sleep for you."

If he was honest Tim was quite pleased that his offer of help had been turned down, it seemed to have taken all of his strength to throw a few clothes and toiletries in a bag. Ducky had wanted Tim to have something to eat before he took him back to his apartment for some clothes, but Tim was determined to shower before he ate anything, to wash away...could he wash away what had happened?

"Ah there you are, I've warmed up some soup...not homemade I'm afraid, but it's tasty and it's hot."

"Honestly Ducky, I really don't feel hungry."

Ducky set down the tray on a small table.

"I'm sure you don't Timothy, and that is all the more reason why you must eat."

Tim knew when he was beaten, so he sat in the comfortable armchair and reached for the tray. He was embarrassed to see that his hands were shaking.

"Let me get that for you."

"Thanks Ducky, s...sorry about this..."

"What nonsense, if I was Jethro I would smack the back of your head; you have nothing for which you should apologise. It is I who should apologise to you...how I could believe, even for a moment..."

Tim shook his head vigorously.

"Don't Ducky...you're not to blame for what happened; that's on Neville...as for what people did or didn't believe...not tonight...I'll think about that tomorrow."

He looked down at the half empty soup bowl, and then up at Ducky.

"I really can't eat any more...I'm just so tired..."

Ducky took the bowl from Tim, and gently put his cool hand on Tim's forehead, he was very hot.

"Quite right Timothy; time for you to get some proper rest. Have a drink now...I'll leave a jug of water here on the night stand. You need fluids, so if you wake up, be sure to drink."

"Yes Mom!"

"I mean it young man, and if your mother was here, she'd be telling you…"

Another bout of shivering started Tim's teeth chattering again, and Ducky hurried to the closet for an extra blanket.

"If you need anything, you call me, whatever the hour; your phone is right here, I'm a light sleeper, so call if you need me!"

"Will do Ducky…thank you…for all this."

"You are most welcome, now, do try to get some sleep, you must be exhausted."

"'Night..."

"Goodnight."

Tim pulled the duvet closer, he was still cold; he knew it was the fever, but that didn't stop the chills. He was so tired, sleeping in lock-up had been a non-starter, sure, he had been worried about the other inmates, but worse than that…Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gibbs' eyes, ice blue, cold, staring at Tim as if he was a piece of garbage in the gutter; how could he sleep with the burden of such revulsion?

That look had hurt him more than any of the blows that had been inflicted on him, he could deal with the physical pain, the bruises would heal; but as he tossed and turned, still unable to sleep despite his exhaustion, the vision of Gibbs' unrelenting gaze would not leave him.

Ducky opened the door a fraction, he wanted to check on Tim, but didn't want to wake him. He gave a deep sigh when he saw how restless his 'patient' was, but the water glass was empty, so at least he was getting some fluids; as quietly as he could Ducky crossed the room and poured another glass.

"Thanks Ducky."

"Still can't sleep?"

"Off and on..."

Ducky rested his hand on Tim's forehead, and whispered.

"You will feel better soon young man, your temperature is still high, but a good night's rest, even if you can't sleep right through, will do you the power of good."

Tim's eyelids were drooping, and with a satisfied smile, Ducky went back to his fireside.

It wasn't long before the phone rang.

"Jethro, I thought you might call."

"Is he getting some sleep Duck? He looked out on his feet earlier."

"His fever is keeping him awake I'm afraid, but he's had a little something to eat..."

The silence at the other end of the line was full of unasked questions.

"Duck, can I come over?"

"Any time Jethro, you know that, I happen to have a bottle of single malt. I'll look out for you; don't want the doorbell disturbing Timothy. Have you far to come?"

Gibbs grinned, Ducky knew him too well.

"Two blocks, I was hoping..."

They sat quietly, a glass of Scotland's finest at hand; Gibbs stared deep into the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"I have done some stupid things in my time Duck, but this, this was beyond stupid Neville set it up to push all the right buttons; those little girls; it was...if someone had ever done that to Kelly...all I could see was the children, I lost sight of McGee, believed every vile thing Fornell told me..."

"Fornell is your friend, he offered you proof, seemingly incontrovertible proof…"

"But I never asked Tim, talked to him…just dismissed him out of hand, let them take him away...I let him down again Duck. It was bad enough I let Metro take him after the Benedict shooting, but this..."

"No! I didn't...you're wrong, no!"

The cries from the other room had Ducky and Gibbs running. Tim was tossing to and fro on the bed, all the bedclothes crumpled in a matted heap on the floor. His eyes were closed, his hair damp with the sweat that was pouring from him.

"I won't say that...I never, it's a lie!"

Gently, very gently Ducky laid his hand again on Tim's forehead.

"Timothy...listen to me, it's Ducky, you're staying with me, remember? You are not in the dreadful place any longer..."

Tim struggled to open his eyes, was that Ducky? It wasn't Fornell…or Sacks…then where was he? Staying with Ducky; that was it, trying to sleep, but he was so hot, then cold, he shivered…and asked in a rasping whisper.

"D…did I wake you Ducky?"

He tried to sit up, but didn't seem to have the energy and fell back onto his pillow.

"Jethro, would you get my bag please? It's on the table in the hall. No, you didn't wake me Timothy, but you are starting to worry me, you need proper rest, perhaps I should have taken you to hospital, just to be on the safe side."

Tim shook his head.

"It's just the flu Ducky, nothing to worry about."

Gibbs handed Ducky his bag, and Tim couldn't contain his gasp of surprise. Gibbs was the last person he had expected to see. Ducky put the thermometer in Tim's mouth, and was about to apply the blood pressure cuff when he noticed something new to concern him.

"I think I'll be the judge of what is worth worrying over young man, now, we need to get you out of those wet pyjamas…did you bring more nightclothes?"

Tim gestured toward his back pack as Ducky checked the thermometer and gave a small sigh.

"Old T-shirt…shorts…"

"Then let's get you changed, don't want you catching a chill on top of everything else. Your temperature is higher than I would like, but your blood pressure is lower than it should be. If you manage to get some proper sleep, and feel a little better in the morning I'll rethink taking you for a check-up, agreed?"

Tim nodded slightly, he was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to unfasten the buttons on his pyjama jacket, when did that get to be so hard? Gibbs felt a pang of guilt as he watched Tim's trembling fingers struggling over such a simple task, he'd missed this too, missed that Tim was sick, was his famous gut letting him down?

"Here, let me."

Tim flinched, and pulled away.

"It's okay, I can…"

Ducky put his hand on Tim's shoulder.

"Let Jethro help Timothy, you sit on the armchair there, and I'll get some dry sheets."

Tim's eyes were bright now, not only with fever, but with unshed tears.

"Sorry about this...I'm causing you so much work…I should have stayed at home."

"I would not hear of it! Look at you, weak as a kitten, how are you meant to look after yourself pray tell, never heard such nonsense…"

Ducky was still muttering as crossed the landing to get fresh bed linen. He left an uncomfortable silence behind. Gibbs tried again.

"Can I help with the jacket? There's a towel here, dry yourself and then put on your T-shirt."

As the last button was unfastened and Gibbs helped peel off the soaking wet jacket, Tim tried to wrap the towel round his shoulders, but he wasn't fast enough. Gibbs had seen the darkened skin on Tim's back.

"Tim, let me look."

Tim gave a gentle shake of his head.

"It's nothing..."

"Doesn't look like nothing to me."

Tim looked Gibbs in the eye for the first time since he'd entered the bedroom, and Gibbs almost took a step back, such was the reproach in that gaze.

"Wasn't the worst thing that happened to me this week…they'll fade soon enough…"

Nothing more was said as Ducky busied himself with changing the bedclothes, Tim didn't refuse Gibbs' offer of assistance as he walked back to the bed, he honestly didn't think he could make even that short distance without keeling over. Yet again, Ducky made sure Tim had a good drink of water before filling the glass once more.

"Is that better, more comfortable?"

Tim nodded weakly.

"Don't know how to thank you Ducky…"

"Just get a good night's sleep; that's all the thanks I need."

Ducky went back into the living room, leaving Gibbs alone with Tim.

"Tim…those bruises, was it just Sacks?"

Tim shook his head.

"Fornell too?"

A single nod.

"Tim…what they did, that was wrong…I…"

Tim looked at Gibbs, his eyes full of pain, of bleak emptiness; he lay back in the freshly made bed, and before merciful oblivion finally overtook him, he whispered.

"They have daughters Gibbs."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Gibbs turned out the light, closed the door behind him, and stood outside on the landing. He took a minute to compose himself; the hurt he had seen in Tim's eyes would haunt him for a very long time.

Ducky watched his friend walk slowly down the stairs and poured a generous measure of Scotch into his glass, Jethro looked as if he could use a drink.

"Did you see the bruises? They beat him; I Ieft him alone and they beat him, and he said...he said that it wasn't the worst thing that had happened..."

"Jethro, he's exhausted, he's ill. I'm sure he didn't mean..."

"He's right Duck, when I first saw the bruises, I thought, I'll get Fornell for this. I'll go round to his house and beat the crap out of him. But you know, is what Fornell and Sacks did to him any worse than what I did? I know McGee, they don't, and I let myself believe what they were telling me."

Gibbs downed his drink in two gulps.

"Jethro! That's 25 year old single malt."

The fact that his glass was empty seemed to come as a surprise to Gibbs, he smiled ruefully.

"Can I crash on your couch Duck? Can't drive home tonight."

He caught Ducky's anxious glance upstairs.

"It's okay, I'll leave early, need to get home, shower and change before work. I'll be gone before he's awake."

Ducky gave a relieved smile.

"You are always welcome, you know that Jethro; I just think he needs a little more time to come to terms with…with everything. Let me get a blanket for you. I can check on Timothy while I'm upstairs...pour yourself another drink."

"No thanks, I could use some coffee though."

"You know where everything is, I'll check upstairs."

Ducky opened the door quietly, but there was no need, at last Tim was sound asleep. The physical and emotional traumas of the last few days had finally caught up with him, and he was getting some much needed rest.

It was Gibbs who spent a restless night, and it wasn't Ducky's couch that was the problem; he had slept in worse places, much worse places. The problem was his own behaviour, his blindness, how had Ziva seen the truth when he had been so completely wrong? Ziva had said it was because she hadn't seen the evidence, was it that simple?

**Friday Morning**

When Ducky made his way down stairs he was not surprised to see the pillows and blankets neatly stacked and folded on the couch. True to his promise Gibbs was gone.

Ducky went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and picked up his phone, he had a few calls to make before he made his tea.

He called Gibbs first, and told him that he would call him when Tim was awake, and also to ask him to let the others know that they were not to call the house, he wanted Tim to get as much rest as possible. Then he called Director Vance to ask for the day off, and Vance had been happy to let Ducky start his weekend a day early.

"Tell McGee to take all the time he needs. After all he's been through I'd like him to speak with Psych Services before he's back in the field, I'll be guided by you Doctor, you tell me when McGee is well enough to come back."

Ducky made some tea and poured a glass of milk; he didn't want to disturb Tim, but he was becoming increasingly concerned that a lack of nourishment would hold back his recovery. A sandwich that he may or may not have eaten on Wednesday evening was not going to help Tim fight off this virus. A glass of milk was little enough, but it would be a start.

When he pulled back the drapes in the guest room Ducky could see that Tim was lying exactly as he had been when he checked on him last night. He was loath to do this, but he had to get Tim to drink the milk; Ducky laid his hand gently on Tim's forehead, it seemed a little cooler, and certainly he wasn't sweating as he had been.

"Timothy."

Ducky shook Tim slightly, careful to avoid the bruises.

"Come along young man, wake up for me."

There was slight movement from the figure in the bed, and Ducky raised his voice a little.

"Tim! It's Ducky, wake up."

"Ducky...tired..."

"I know you are, but you need to drink."

Tim finally opened his eyes and focussed on Ducky.

"Good lad, now let's get you sitting up, so that I can take a look at you."

"Could I use the bathroom first? Brush my teeth...maybe feel a little better..."

"Then let me help you."

"I can manage."

But he couldn't; as soon as he tried to stand his legs buckled under him, he had to lean on Ducky to make it as far as the bathroom. Tim emerged a few minutes later.

"Ducky, sorry about this, I got blood on the face cloth."

There was blood trickling from his mouth, the cut on his lip had opened up again. Watching Tim standing unsteadily, holding out a blood-stained cloth, feeling the need to apologise even though that cut had been inflicted on him by people who should know better, Ducky knew now why Jethro felt the urge to strike out at Fornell.

"No matter, let me look."

Tim flopped down on the edge of the bed and let Ducky examine him once more. A few tuts and one long sigh later Ducky handed Tim the glass of milk.

"Drink this; the whole glass."

He took the glass, but Tim looked with distaste at the contents.

"Don't really like milk Ducky."

"Liking has nothing to do with it, you need the nourishment. You have two options young man, drink that, or I will take you to the hospital and get you on an IV. Which sounds better to you?"

Tim knew when he was beaten; he downed the drink as quickly as he could, and looked up to see Ducky grinning at him.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?"

"Ya think?"

Ducky busied himself plumping up the pillows, and took the empty glass from Tim.

"What I think is that you still look as if you need some sleep."

"Sounds good Ducky...but, do you want me out of your hair? I can get a cab home..."

"Do not make me hit you Timothy. I am doing the very least I can. I am thoroughly ashamed of my part in your ordeal, allow me to do this for you; it is the very least you deserve."

Tim couldn't begin to describe his relief, the idea of getting dressed, walking up the stairs to his apartment, fending for himself...

"Don't know about that Ducky, but I'd like to stay, if you're sure."

"I'm positive, now back under the covers, and sleep, that's an order."

Tim's eyes were already closing as he whispered.

"On it."

Ducky went back to his kitchen a little happier, Tim needed sleep most of all, but he couldn't have gone much longer without some nourishment. As he stirred his tea Ducky shivered a little; how close had they come to losing Tim? Without Ziva, the evidence...Gibbs had told them it was overwhelming; and there was the crux of it. Gibbs...how often did they question Gibbs? He said Tim was guilty, end of discussion.

**Friday Evening**

Tim sat bolt upright, he'd fallen asleep, he wasn't supposed to sleep, they'd come for him, if they knew who he was...but this bed; soft pillows…this wasn't lock-up. Where was he? Slowly, as his heart rate settled back to normal, he took in his surroundings, Ducky, that's where he was, Ducky had let him stay.

For a few terrifying moments he had been back in the nightmare...but it wasn't a nightmare, it was real. His hands were trembling again, and this time it wasn't from the fever. They had really thought he would pay to watch sick, twisted men rape innocent children. During those long hours in lock-up he had tried and tried to think of anything he had ever said or done that could have led people...and not just any people, his team mates; to believe him capable...he needed another shower, the stench of that place still lingered and he had to wash it away, his mouth was suddenly dry; a drink, then a shower.

He reached for a drink of water, the glass was empty, he didn't remember drinking it, but he must have...Ducky had refilled the jug for him, so Tim reached over to pour a fresh glass. He tried to lift the jug, he should be able to do this, focus, pick up the jug. But he didn't have the strength, and the jug fell to the floor with a thud, water spilling out over the carpet.

Tim slipped to his knees and tried to scoop up the water in his hands, there was too much...

"Stupid...clumsy."

He was aware of the door opening, of course Ducky must have heard the jug hit the floor; Tim didn't look up, he didn't want to see the disappointment on Ducky's face. Tim felt a hand on his shoulder.

"McGee...Tim, leave it...I'll get a cloth."

"Jimmy? I...I messed up again...dropped the jug."

Kneeling down beside Tim, Jimmy pulled his hands away from the carpet.

"It's only water Tim, it will soon dry. Come on, you're getting cold."

"I keep screwing up Jimmy, I try my best, but it's never enough."

With support from Jimmy, Tim managed to get up from his knees, taking his first proper look at him; it took all Jimmy's self-control not to gasp aloud. Tim was so pale, the gash on his lip red and livid against his white face; dark smudges under his eyes accentuating the weariness and pain that Jimmy could see there. He looked a pale shadow of the man who had gone to lunch with him...was it only Monday?

"Don't worry about the jug Tim; do you want to go back to bed?"

Tim seemed to be having trouble answering even this simple question.

"Not bed, no. I want...shower, that's it. I need to get clean."

He seemed so unsteady on his feet that Jimmy was worried about letting him out of his sight.

"Okay Tim, you can take a shower, but I don't want you closing the bathroom door, if you fall I want to be able to get to you."

"I could use a little privacy Jimmy…"

Jimmy patted him on the shoulder and laughed quietly.

"I'm not going to be watching Tim, I'll just be around if you need help…anyhow, it wouldn't be anything I haven't seen before!"

Tim was momentarily puzzled; then a pale pink suffused his face.

"Oh, right...the poison ivy...that was pretty...dramatic..."

"As Doctor Mallard would say; it was indeed!"

"Is Ducky downstairs? I…I don't even know the time."

"It's 6.45, and Doctor Mallard has gone to visit his mother, he'll be back soon. Tim, do you think you could eat something after your shower? I can whip up a mean omelette."

"You know Jimmy, I think I am a little hungry, that sounds pretty good."

"That's settled then, you sure you can manage a shower?"

"I'm sure, might even have a shave too."

Tim smiled at the sudden panic in Jimmy's eyes.

"Don't worry; I have an electric shaver, not going to cut myself on that."

As Tim headed for the bathroom Jimmy busied himself getting a cloth from the kitchen and mopping up the water. He had been a little surprised when Doctor Mallard called him and asked if he would stay at the house 'in case Timothy wakes up', but now, having seen Tim's reaction to the spilled water, and his slow struggle to the bathroom, Jimmy could see exactly why he was needed.

Jimmy had waited until Tim got out of the shower, then he went down to the kitchen to get started on the food. He was beating the eggs when Tim walked in.

"Felling better?"

"Much."

He did look a little better, but his eyes still had a haunted look. Jimmy was surprised to see that he was dressed in sweatshirt and jeans.

"I would have been happy to bring this up to you Tim."

"No thanks Jimmy, I've been sleeping so long, it's good to be out of bed, at least for a while."

"Come and sit at the table, I'll get you some orange juice."

They were sitting quietly; Jimmy was delighted to see an empty plate in front of Tim. As for Tim, he'd eaten as if on auto-pilot, and he was currently staring at the clock on the kitchen wall. The omelette had been good, but Jimmy wondered whether Tim had actually tasted it at all. Finally Tim broke the silence.

"Did you believe them Jimmy? Wouldn't blame you if you did, everyone believed it. No, that's not true; Ziva didn't, but all the others, even Abby…."

How to answer? Honestly, he hadn't believed it; Tim had always been good to him, he'd taken him out for a drink after Michelle…after she died, and had driven him home when he got more than slightly drunk. But although he hadn't believed it, had he done anything about it? He'd taken the coward's way out, and kept his mouth shut, as the rumours spread round NCIS like wildfire, he never once stood up for Tim. Gibbs had allowed McGee to be charged; he alone had seen the evidence, and he'd let Fornell take Tim, so the way everyone saw it, McGee was history.

"It's okay Jimmy, I shouldn't have asked. I can't go back can I? How can I work there…when everyone is going around thinking I did that? It's impossible; I should have realised, it's over, my career in law enforcement just crashed and burned."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Friday Evening**

Ducky stood at the half-open door, neither of the men sitting at the kitchen table had heard him come in. He hesitated; if he went in there, what could he say? There, there Timothy, take a pill and it will all be better in the morning? Because they all knew things were not likely to get better any time soon. But if he stayed outside, how could he help Tim to cope with the thought that his career was in ruins? He was about to push open the door when he heard Jimmy's voice.

"Please Tim, don't think like that. There are lots of us who know that you couldn't do what they said. But...but like me, they didn't speak up; and I feel...I for one am ashamed of that; I don't ask you to forgive me...because...well, because my silence is unforgivable. It was...I was carried along with..."

The unmistakable bagpipe skirl of Ducky's phone put an end to Jimmy's confession.

"Yes…of course Jethro, we'll be right there."

He pushed open the door; Jimmy was already on his feet.

"We have to leave; they've found a body at the suspect's home. Timothy…I don't like to leave you alone."

"Not a problem, I'll be sleeping again soon. Jimmy, thanks…for everything, and really, don't blame yourself…I'm not looking to blame anyone...just trying to get my head round everything. You should go, Gibbs doesn't like waiting."

There was tension in the air when Ducky and Jimmy walked into the crime scene. The three occupants of the room were going about their jobs in the usual well-drilled manner that was a hallmark of Gibbs' team, but there was something else, and it wasn't simply the serious nature of the current case. A marine wife being abducted was indeed a grave matter, but Ducky couldn't remember encountering such silence before. This team never worked in silence, one or other was always talking, Tony with his constant movie references, Gibbs with his Marine insights, Ziva struggling with idioms, and Tim, enthralled by another wonderful piece of technology…and there was the something else, Tim wasn't here.

Ducky knelt beside the body, and started his examination, Jimmy wheeled in the gurney and they carefully readied the body for transportation back to the Navy Yard.

"Don't need a time if death Duck, witnesses heard the shot, saw a man running from the scene; but if there's anything you can get from the body that will help us with a location for this scumbag, it could get us closer to Alice Howell."

"We will do everything possible Jethro. Jimmy, shall we get him into the truck?"

Tony helped Jimmy lift the body, much to Jimmy's amazement, Tony never got his hands dirty with this kind of stuff.

"How's he doing Jimmy?"

Ah, so that was why he was helping.

"He…honestly I think his world has disintegrated, and he's trying so hard to understand what happened...Tony, I don't think he can grasp…I mean, maybe if he wasn't sick, he could deal with it better, but…he looks…"

"Bereft…Timothy looks as if he has lost something rare and precious, and he doesn't know whether he will ever be able to find it again."

Ducky had seen Jimmy struggling to explain Tim's plight to Tony; he'd seen Gibbs and Ziva listening, and he wanted them all to know, and he needed to acknowledge to himself the level of the anguish that Tim was feeling because of their behaviour.

"I know you are in the midst of a very difficult case right now Jethro, but when it is over, when Timothy is stronger, we all need to speak to him."

Gibbs gave a curt nod, he was struggling with his own emotions, but right now a young mother was missing, and he was determined to reunite her with her children.

"When we're done here, we'll see…Tony check with Abby, see if there's any news on that cell phone trace…

[b]Friday Nigh[/b]

Three hours later they were all assembled in the squad room, Mrs Howell was being checked over in the hospital, but she appeared to be none the worse for her confinement, her husband and children had been so grateful, so delighted to have her back, it almost allowed them to forget for a short time that their team mate was going through agonies of his own…Now that the case was over, they could allow themselves time to think again, and there was only one person on their minds.

"But Gibbs, when can I see Timmy? I have to explain, tell him I'm sorry."

"Not up to me Abs."

Gibbs cast a questioning glance in Ducky's direction.

"Give him another day Abigail. Although he's recovering physically; mentally…he's in a very fragile state, and I'm concerned that a word out of place now would set him back further. I'm not sure he's ready for Team Gibbs en masse, but…if I could ask, Ziva, would you be prepared to call by in the morning? I think it would be good for him to talk to the one person who stood by him through all this; the rest of us…well let's just say, it was not our finest hour."

Ziva didn't even attempt to hide her delight.

"If you think he is well enough, I would be very happy to visit."

Ducky smiled warmly.

"Thank you my dear, and Abby, don't worry, I'm sure Timothy will want to see you very soon."

It was past midnight by the time Ducky arrived home. His first port of call was the guest room; Tim was sleeping peacefully, and Ducky couldn't help smiling when he saw three glasses of water lined up on the bedside table, Timothy wasn't taking any chances with the jug tonight. He closed the door carefully, and quietly walked down stairs and into the kitchen. A cup of tea, and then bed, he switched on the light and let out a quiet exclamation.

"Oh Timothy!"

The kitchen was spotless, every plate, cup, knife and fork washed, dried and put away. Ducky should have known that even in his weakened state Tim wouldn't want him coming home to dirty dishes.

**Saturday Morning**

Ziva arrived at 8am as promised.

"Come in my dear, Timothy hasn't come down yet, and I don't like to wake him, rest is a great healer. Now, would you like a cup of tea while we wait, have you eaten?"

"Thank you Ducky, tea would be good, I have already had breakfast."

"Of course you have, early to rise for your run. I should have remembered."

Ducky busied himself making the tea, and as they sat drinking he asked the question that had been on his mind ever since they had watched in Abby's lab as the evidence against Tim was dismantled,

"How did you know Ziva? When the rest of us doubted him, turned our backs to him, how did you know he was innocent?"

She was genuinely surprised.

"But that is exactly it Ducky. I cannot see how any one; anyone who knows him could ever believe that McGee would be involved in harming children. How could he hide such a thing? He cannot dissemble, oh he tries his best; particularly when Tony is goading him, but if you look closely, you can see the hurt. You ask how I knew, I ask, how could you not know?"

For once in his life, Donald Mallard was speechless; it was that simple, she knew with absolute certainty that Timothy could not act in such a way, and no amount of evidence, or glares from Gibbs would sway her from that conviction.

"My dear, I thank God that you knew, because I shudder to think what could have happened to him if he had to spend even one more night in lock-up. I wonder if he would like a cup of tea."

"Shall I ask him?"

"No Ziva, you are a guest, you wait here, and I'll go and see…."

"Ziva!"

She was running up stairs almost before the last echo of her name had sounded in the hall.

Ducky was standing on the landing holding a single sheet of paper.

"He's gone…Ziva; he's gone, he left this."

Ziva took the note from Ducky's shaking hand.

_Ducky_

_Thank you for everything. Sorry to leave like this, but I know if I see you, you'd persuade me to stay._

_I need some time alone, work out where I go from here._

_Tim_

Ziva read the note again, she was worried, really worried.

"You said his mental state was fragile…Ducky, do you think he would…"

"No! Oh my dear, no…Timothy has too much to live for."

He held on to Ziva's hand, and as he uttered those words Ducky prayed that they were true.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Saturday Afternoon**

The team had not been idle in the hours since Ducky had found Tim's note. Gibbs had already checked Tim's apartment, as far as he could tell a few clothes were missing, but everything else was where it should be, his car still in the parking garage. As soon as the rest of the team had heard that Tim had left Ducky's house, they gathered together to work out a strategy to find him. They had met at NCIS, willing to do anything they could to find Tim, all of them feeling that they carried some of the blame for Tim's current situation...whatever that situation may be; it was not knowing where he was and what he was doing that was eating at them. They'd called the hospitals, and left word that if anyone fitting Tim's description was admitted, they were to be informed immediately. Gibbs didn't dare put out a BOLO, the last thing Tim needed right now was some over enthusiastic LEO trying to take him into custody.

They had been faxing and emailing Tim's picture to as many DC hotels as they could, hoping against hope that he had just crashed out exhausted in some anonymous hotel bedroom.

Jimmy was at Tim's desk, helping with the hotel calls, he'd asked to come in and help in any way he could. He felt the weight of responsibility for Tim's plight as much as any of them, The utter despair he had seen on Tim's face when he declared his career done was like a constant nagging pain, it wouldn't leave him; if he stopped concentrating on something else even for a minute, Jimmy could see again the despair in those eyes, the pallor of his skin, the...grief, it was almost unbearable to witness. How much worse must it to live through such a crisis? He watched the others working and he knew they were all thinking the same thing. Had their betrayal driven Tim to seek the final escape from his agony?

Tony slammed down the phone.

"Nothing! We're nearly done with this list, and we have nothing."

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands across his eyes. The news that Tim had walked out of Ducky's had hit him hard, he knew that he'd let Tim down, but he also knew that Tim would forgive him, after all, he always did. But he should have understood better; this wasn't like telling other people Tim was gay, or super gluing his fingers to the keyboard, this was beyond anything he'd ever done. He had allowed himself to believe the worst of a man who had only ever demonstrated his honourable nature, who always had his back...who had pulled him back from the brink when he could have fallen to his death; and how had he repaid him? He'd listened to Gibbs, taken as gospel every awful thing that he was told.

When he had seen Tim in lock-up, looked in his eyes, he couldn't believe that he'd done what they said, but had he uttered a single kind word, reached out to take Tim by the hand? When Tim asked to be taken back to his cell, when he decided that he would rather be there that with his so called friends, why hadn't he called him back, told him that he knew he was innocent? Because he was gutless, that's why; Tim had stood up to Gibbs, in the grim surroundings of that visitor's room, sick and hurt as he was Tim had let fire at Gibbs, his righteous anger taking Tony by surprise. In that moment Tony knew with absolute certainty what he should have known all along, Timothy McGee was incapable of harming a child; but even then he had let Tim go, and now Tim had gone again, and this time maybe he wasn't coming back.

**Saturday Evening**

Gibbs had gathered everyone in the squad room; they had reached the point where there was nothing else they could do effectively before morning.

Abby had waited patiently in her lab waiting for any activity on Tim's phone; so far he hadn't called anyone, not even his family. Ducky had told Gibbs that Tim had called home on Friday evening and let his parents know that he was sick, nothing for them to worry about but he wouldn't be in touch for a few days. If Tim had changed his mind and gone back home...well, he deserved a few home comforts, but none of them honestly thought he would go to his parents', not the way he was feeling right now. But how was he feeling? Gibbs couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine what was going though Tim's mind...how much hurt and distress he was going through, and going through alone...

Abby's make-up was smudged where she had wiped away her tears; she had tried so hard not to cry, not to think that Tim might harm himself. He had looked so forlorn listening to Neville taunting him through the glass in interrogation; he had almost collapsed then…he had collapsed as he tried to leave…she wanted so much to run to him, cradle him in her arms and tell him she was sorry. But she hadn't done it; she was scared he would push her away, because she had abandoned him.

Gibbs had told her that the evidence proved Tim's guilt, and she knew Gibbs was never wrong, until now. Abby felt as if her own private world had tilted off its axis, and she felt such remorse. Almost without a second thought she had accepted Gibbs' word, and without Ziva's intervention…she shuddered to think what would have happened to Tim. Would she have checked the evidence herself? Would she have gone against the word oh her hero? No, she knew in her heart that she wouldn't have asked to see it. She hadn't even gone to see Tim, to talk with him face to face.

Abby could feel the tears prickling in her eyes again.

"Gibbs, what if he really has…you know…I let him down, I should never have believed the stupid FBI forensics…and now, if he's…"

"Don't think that way Abby, he needs to think, that's what he's doing, figuring out where he needs to go from here, that's what the note said. He's okay, I know, I feel it in my gut."

"Your gut!"

Ziva's exclamation echoed round the squad room; and she made no effort to hide her contempt.

"Where was your famous gut when the FBI accused one of your team of a hideous crime? You let them drag Tim out of here, in front of everyone. You didn't even allow him the dignity of walking out with one of us, you let Fornell and Sacks take him, and you never said a single word in his defence!"

Ziva had tried so hard to see their point of view, even though she could not share it, had tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, but there was no doubt, never for a second had she doubted Tim. Gibbs and children, she knew how it was with Gibbs and children; he lost focus because of the little girls. Tony, he wants to be Gibbs, Ducky has been his friend for so long. Abby, well she just could not believe that Gibbs would be wrong about anything. So Ziva tried to understand how they could look at Tim McGee and see a paedophile, but it was impossible to understand. And now, now that it could be too late they had decided to feel remorse. Ziva had learned the lesson of self-control the hard way, but this was too much.

"You think this is enough? What have we achieved with all this rushing around? We know he is not staying at any of the hotels on our list, we know he has not been admitted to a hospital, he has not used his phone or his credit cards. And what does that give us? Nothing, we still do not know where he is, or what he is doing. If you had shown such concern for him before, there would be no need for…all this; Tim would be with us, as always…"

Ziva grabbed her back pack from the floor and practically ran to the elevator. She could not stay any longer…

**Saturday Night**

Ziva had taken a hot bath and drunk a cup of herbal tea, but still she couldn't relax. She was so angry, with herself for losing control, but mostly with the other members of the team. They had looked so shocked at her outburst; but in truth she had not said half of the things she wanted to say. When Tim had agreed to return to the team she had been prepared to forgive them, but if he did not return, for whatever reason, would she be able to stay?

Her phone rang; Ziva snatched it up from the table. Tony and Abby had already tried to call several times and she had nothing she wanted to say to them. She was about to switch it off when she read the caller ID; McGee.


	5. Chapter 5

11

**Chapter Five**

**Sunday Morning**

Tim sat on the park bench and raised his face to the sun; it seemed a lifetime ago that he had last been out in the fresh air. He checked his watch again, he was a little early, but was happy to sit and enjoy the sights and sounds of a sunny Washington Sunday.

He smiled as he watched the children running around on the soccer field. He had always loved the sounds of children playing, their total unbridled joy in everything they did. He hoped to have children of his own one day; would he understand Gibbs' behaviour then? When he held a child of his own, would he understand Gibbs coruscating anger, the blind unthinking rage that had led Gibbs to abandon him to the FBI?

As he watched the coaches and parents on the sidelines, he gave a deep sigh. Would he be able to continue working with children? If the parent's of his Youth Rangers objected to him being involved and he had to give it up…With so much on his mind these last few days it hadn't entered his head that he would no longer be able to pass on his passion for scouting to others. But he had to face facts, if anyone didn't want him working with their child, then despite his innocence he would have to leave.

Tim leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, this wasn't getting any easier; he had thought, hoped, after last night when he'd come to his decision about NCIS that things would start to get better. But every time he thought that he had reached rock bottom, something else came along to bring him further down.

"Tim! It is so good to see you!"

Ziva was running toward him, and immediately his mood lightened. He stood to greet her, she wasn't a tactile person, not like Abby, but he couldn't resist enfolding her in a hug.

"Ziva...oh Ziva; I don't know...you, you saved me...I just don't know how to thank you."

She returned his embrace.

"There is no need for thanks, I told you that last night."

"I know you did Ziva, doesn't mean I have to agree with you."

Tim guided her to the bench, and they sat side by side.

"So Tim, do things look as clear as you had hoped they would in the cold light of day?"

"A little clearer, but I wanted to talk to you before I meet up with the others."

"I called them as you asked; they were all relieved to know that you are safe and well,"

Tim shook his head.

"You know, a few days ago I'd have said I can't believe they would think I'd try to harm myself; but now, I guess they think I'm capable of anything. I just needed some time alone, to think..."

When he had left Ducky's yesterday morning Tim had collected a few clothes, picked up his emergency cash supply from his safe at home and taken a cab to Dulles Airport. He had never intended to leave the country; his destination had been the Marriott Hotel at the airport. Airport hotels were great places to disappear, so many people in and out all hours of the day and night; the receptionists never had chance to get to know individuals, and that was what he had wanted, to be another anonymous guest blending in to the scenery. Thankfully he was able to afford a suite, and he'd taken advantage of the king-size bed and spent most of the day sleeping, his meals had been taken in his room, and at last he had started to feel stronger, mentally and physically. He had been luxuriating in the warmth of a hot bath when he made his decision, he couldn't go back. He should never have told them he would return, he hadn't been thinking straight, he was sick, and heaven knew, he was tired…he should have given himself time to think; instead he promised to go back.

After his bath he settled down at the desk, took a piece of hotel stationery and started to compose his letter of resignation.

"Tim? Are you still with me?"

"Oh…sorry Ziva, still coming to terms with everything I guess. I've second-guessed myself so many times…this time I need to make sure I've made the right choice."

Ziva reached out for his hand.

"You are coming back? That is what you said last night, have you changed your mind?"

"No, I've been back and forth over all that's happened, and it all comes down to one thing. Neville did this to drag me away from the team, whether I went to prison, or left NCIS, wouldn't matter to him, he was looking for payback because I left Cyber Crimes. I don't understand where he got such hatred Ziva; all I ever showed him was kindness…"

"He is a twisted man Tim; alone, without friends. Let us not dwell on him, he will be punished for what he did to you…not as I would like to see him punished it is true, but for now, that will have to be enough. So tell me, when did you finally decide to come back?"

Tim gave a brief laugh.

"Funnily enough, it was when I came to write my letter of resignation. I sat in front of that blank piece of paper, and tried to put into words my reasons for leaving. What was I supposed to say? Dear Director Vance, I need to leave because my boss believed I could watch children being sexually abused. I was framed by a crazy computer geek. The FBI didn't carry out proper checks on their evidence. Fornell and Sacks were so desperate to have me confess, they were prepared to beat it out of me."

Ziva leaned her head on his shoulder, she knew Gibbs had already tried to make contact with Fornell, he was 'out of town' on a case and couldn't be contacted. But witnessing the sadness in her friends' eyes, she was determined that she would not let the matter drop. Tim put his arm around her, suddenly he felt unsure again, would he have the courage to go back and face everyone at NCIS?

"For every blow you took Tim, I will repay them, this I promise."

He laughed aloud then, he knew that he only had to say the word and she'd do it.

"Like I said before Ziva, I'm glad you're for me…I would hate to have you against me."

"That is never going to happen…so, the letter, it was not completed?"

"Never really got started, I ran down that list in my head, and I thought, where on that list is one reason why I should go? One thing that I had done wrong? And there was nothing…I knew then that I had to go back, back to NCIS…still not sure about going back to Gibbs' team…but if I do, it will be because of you Ziva; you stood by me when everyone else was ready to hang me out to dry. You believed in me, and…I know you don't want thanks, but for the rest of my life I will remember what you did for me, and I will forever be in your debt."

Ziva could see the tears in his eyes, and she could feel her own eyes starting to water, he had been through so much, had felt so abandoned and alone; it would take time for him to heal, but she was determined that he would heal. And if Ziva David set her mind on something, she usually achieved her goal. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds around them, she was content to let Tim set the agenda; he looked a lot better than when she had last seen him, but he was still too pale, and he still looked tired.

"I should call the Director in the morning, I think I need another day off, and there's something I need to do before I go back."

"Are you sure one day is enough? Ducky says you should take all the time you require, you have barely eaten in five days. That is it! You will come to my home for lunch, then I can be sure that you have had a proper meal, not merely room service food, what do you say Tim? I would be happy to cook for you."

"Then I will be more than happy to eat with you, if you're sure Ziva?"

**Sunday Evening**

Tim stared at the phone, he knew it was time to make the call, but he'd had such a relaxing afternoon it was a shame to spoil the mood. After a wonderful lunch he'd fallen asleep on Ziva's couch…and when he woke he felt completely refreshed for the first time in days. She had brushed aside his apologies, and had seemed disappointed when he had refused to stay longer; but she understood. He had to make this call before he lost his nerve. Taking a deep breath he hit the number and waited for the usual curt reply.

"Gibbs."

"It's me…Gibbs; I want you to show me."

He could hear the puzzled silence at the other end of the line.

"McG…Tim, I don't understand, show you?"

"The evidence...those pictures you thought I...I downloaded...I need to see..."

He was finding it difficult to articulate why he had to look at the images; the very idea of them turned his stomach. But other people, including Gibbs, had thought him capable of downloading them, he had to know why.

"It's FBI evidence Tim, not sure they'll be willing to share it with us."

"Maybe they'd share if I tell them I'm thinking of pressing charges against Fornell and Sacks."

Gibbs winced inwardly. In the midst of everything that had happened to Tim since last Wednesday, it was all too easy to forget that he had been physically assaulted. Ducky had told him that Tim would need help to understand how Gibbs could have taken the stance he did, but was showing him those pictures the right thing?

"They're pretty graphic Tim, are you sure you want to do this?"

"As sure as you were that I would pay money to look at them. Don't you see? You decided I'd watch something…something I can't begin to imagine…and now, now I have to see, because it's eating at me…not knowing what you saw…I have to see…to understand."

"I'll call them first thing tomorrow, if you're certain?"

"I'm not certain, pretty sure I'll never be certain of anything again, but I know I have to do this. And Gibbs, not at NCIS…I'm not ready to see everyone else right now. They must have a room at FBI Headquarters we can use, call me when you've made arrangements."

The line went dead, and Gibbs was left listening to static. He'd thought the worst was over when Ziva told him that Tim had decided he was definitely returning to NCIS, but when he saw those pictures, when he saw what Gibbs had seen, would Tim be able to work with him again, or would he be lost to the team for ever?

**Monday Morning**

Tim sat in a small office at FBI headquarters; his hands unconsciously clenched into fists, his knuckles white.

"Still time to leave Tim, you don't have to do this."

"I think I do Gibbs, the reality can't be any worse that what I've been imagining."

Gibbs nodded to the technician, and the screen flickered into life. It took only minutes for Tim to realise that in actual fact the reality was much, much worse. The images on the screen before him showed acts of such depravity, such evil...his throat constricted, his mouth was suddenly dry, his heart was pounding, and his stomach rolled as he watched…His brain couldn't come up with words to describe what he was watching, his mind rebelled against it, and he could feel his body rebelling; he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He felt Gibbs' hand on his arm,

"McGee?"

He couldn't stay in this room, he was suffocating; he had to get out. Almost blindly Tim pulled open the door and ran down the corridor. He got to the men's room just in time. He leaned over the toilet, heaving up the contents of his stomach, trembling, sweating; he shouldn't have looked, he should have left it alone, why hadn't he listened to Ziva? She told him he didn't need to see…He retched again at the thought of those poor children being abused in such unbelievably cruel ways…another wave of nausea had him sinking to his knees, he couldn't stop shaking. Finally, when he was convinced he had no lining left in his stomach, he managed to stagger to his feet. He opened the door, stumbled to the wash basin and bathed his face in cold water, the face staring back at him in the mirror seemed to belong to a stranger, pale, gaunt, dark shadows under his eyes, when did he start looking so…haunted?

Again he tried to breathe deeply, to clear his head a little, but Tim felt as is all the air was being sucked out of the room, and he would suffocate if he stayed inside any longer. He needed to get outside. Tim went running down the corridor again, his sole aim, to get out of that place. He never saw Gibbs, didn't hear him call his name. His head was filled with the sounds that those men made as they brutalised little girls and boys, the children's cries as they were…this had been a big mistake, his imagination would never have provided him with pictures like that, and now he knew, he would never stop seeing those terrified children, never stop hearing their cries.

He kept running, oblivious to the concerns of security staff, practically threw his visitor's badge at the guard in the lobby, and took in a gulp of air when he finally made it outside.

Where to go now, what to do? He had no idea which way he was heading, but he knew he had to put some distance between himself and what he had just seen. He kept walking; until the blaring of a car horn told him he was in the middle of the road…he raised a hand in apologetic acknowledgment to the driver and hurried across the street.

"McGee! Tim, stop!"

He did stop, but only because his legs wouldn't take him any further, he started shaking again. Gibbs grabbed his elbow just as Tim's knees seemed to give way.

"Come on Tim; sit down."

Tim tried to pull away, he couldn't deal with this now, not with Gibbs…but he lacked the strength to move, so he allowed Gibbs to guide him to a seat outside a deli. Once he was sitting, Tim felt a little steadier, and he lifted his head; Gibbs knew he was never going to forget the raw anguish in Tim's eyes.

"You watched that...that filth...and you thought I...you think so little of me, how could you, even for a second?"

"I…I was wrong…I was having troubles myself, and you got the raw end of things. I need coffee, will you wait here, and we can talk? Do you want coffee?"

Tim seemed to become fully aware of his surroundings for the first time, and he gave a wan smile.

"See where we end up? Can't get away from the Navy I guess."

Gibbs glanced toward the Navy Memorial, relieved that something could distract Tim from this latest blow. The deli was quiet, and only two other tables were occupied, that suited Gibbs, if he could get Tim to stay, they needed to talk. He wasn't sure Tim had heard him.

"Tim, do you want coffee?"

"No, no thanks; don't think I could keep it down. Water would be good."

"Okay, you stay here, I'll get it."

When Gibbs returned with the drinks, he was more relieved than he could say to see Tim still sitting, staring at the statue at the centre of the Memorial, the sun glinting on the waterfalls.

"Here you go, drink this; Ducky will have my hide if you get sick again."

Tim took the bottle and tried to get it open, but his hands were shaking, ad he felt so weak.

"Let me Tim."

Gibbs opened the bottle and handed it back, did he need to call Ducky? Tim looked on the point of collapse…

"Do you want to go home Tim? We can do this later."

Tim swallowed some water and shook his head.

"I'm okay, those pictures…how much of that did you watch?"

"Honestly Tim, not much more than you…didn't have the stomach for it…then Fornell showed me transcripts of the chat, the emails they said you sent to a ten year old girl, grooming her, arranging to meet with her…"

Gibbs forced himself to look in Tim's eyes as he told him all this, he owed him that much, but watching the raw emotions, the disbelief, he was reminded of what Ziva had told him all along, Tim can't hide his feelings. He marvelled again that he had allowed himself to doubt the honesty of this most honest of men.

"I have no excuse for what I did Tim, it's inexcusable, but I want you to try and understand…I've always been able to read people."

"And Klingons."

They both smiled at that.

"Yeah, and Klingons…but lately, it's all gone wrong, since the team was split up, my gut has let me down…Vance thought I could somehow sniff out the mole, but I got that wrong. I was convinced Langer was rotten…took me too long to figure out I'd done him wrong. Like I did to you…with Langer I let Lee fool me into believing she had to shoot him because he was the mole. Then Lee, she was the one, she fooled me for so long…I started to think I couldn't read people any more, my gut was no good. So when Fornell and Sacks showed me those...pictures, I told them you couldn't do that, but they showed me the emails, proved to me they were from your home computer…and I started to doubt…not just you Tim, I doubted myself; and I let them take you…you know how I feel about apologies…"

Tim almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand and face down Gibbs.

"Don't you dare! Don't say you're sorry…have you any idea what it's been like for me? I'm sick of hearing about how everyone is sorry, they apologise, how could they have thought geeky McGee would do such a thing? Sorry? You should be ashamed, all of you!"

The bottle of water dropped to the floor and the contents spilled out, forming a dark stain on the concrete. Tim fell to his knees, and picked up the bottle.

"Not having much luck with water lately…and I shouldn't have said that; it's not all of you who should be ashamed, not Ziva. I…about coming back to the team, I wanted to, because Ziva asked me…and she risked so much for me, it was the only way I could start repaying my debt."

"And now?"

"Now…how do I deal with the fact that you… the people I thought knew me better than anyone outside my own family; you let yourselves believe that I would knowingly allow children to be violated. How do I work with people who see me that way?"

Gibbs pulled Tim back upright, and guided him to his chair. Gibbs held his breath, so this was it, his own stupidity and stubbornness was going to drive Tim away. He wasn't having that, Tim had done nothing wrong, and he shouldn't have to give up a job he loved.

"They believed it because of me Tim, I told them, and they're so used to jumping when I say jump that they took my word, almost without question…but I want you to know, when I told them, that first day; they all questioned me, told me they couldn't believe it."

"Even Tony?"

Gibbs smiled and nodded.

"Even Tony; but I steamrollered them all, refused to listen to any argument, and they took my word…except Ziva…Tim…if it means you'll stay with NCIS, and because this is all on me, I'll resign."

Tim's eyes opened wide, and he shook his head vigorously.

"That's not what I want…it's your team, and…you are a great investigator, the others need you…I should go, not you."

It was Gibbs' turn to shake his head.

"Do you seriously think there'll be a team if you go? Ziva won't stay, how could she work with me if you leave? They've seen me for what I am Tim, Abby…you know, I don't think she even wants to be the favourite any more…I think I've taken a nose dive from that pedestal she had me on, same with Tony…I know I shouldn't ask this, I have no right to ask; but I am asking. Please stay."

Tim couldn't speak…this was the last thing he had expected, his brief outburst of anger was spent, he was emotionally drained once more…but he had been right about one thing.

"I don't want you to go…but, I don't want apologies from any of them Gibbs, I don't want them to be sorry…I want them to be sure they never make a mistake like that again, not just about me, but about anyone…whether it's a case…or a colleague…you always told us, take nothing at face value…check everything until we are satisfied…maybe we lose sight of that sometimes…"

"I know I lost sight of it Tim, I should have given Abby the evidence, had her check it out, but because it was Fornell…I took his word over yours, and that was unbelievably stupid…and I still have unfinished business with him, and with Sacks."

"Leave it Gibbs, honestly, if I'm going to move on from this, I have to put that behind me…and, now I've seen some of what they saw, they shouldn't have hit me…but they believed the evidence too, they thought they were hitting a paedophile…and most people would cheer them on for that."

Gibbs kept his counsel, but there was no way he was letting them get away with what they did to Tim.

"So, what's it to be Tim, do you stay, or do I go?"

**Friday Morning**

Gibbs and his team were in their customary place at the back of the main conference room watching the latest awards ceremony. There was nothing for any of them today, but they were all delighted to be here, as a team. Tim was with them, and they were all doing their best to work through the difficulties that had arisen after his arrest. They had taken part in several group therapy sessions, and little by little, they were working through the issues that had threatened to tear them apart. Tim was still too pale for Ducky's liking, but he was looking much better than he had when he walked back into the squad room on Tuesday. Abby had been there to enfold him in a huge hug, and had to be pried off him by Tony, brash, confident Tony, who shook Tim's hand in silence, but whose face told Tim more than a million movie references ever could. Ziva had stood back, content to let the others have their moment, then he saw her, and his smile lit up the room. She knew then, that every Gibbs glare, the risk of losing her job here at NCIS, the chance she had taken to get the evidence…it had all been worth it, he was back!

Tim had done his best to get on with his work, to catch up with everything he had missed while he had been away, but he couldn't help noticing the glances that flashed in his direction when people thought he wasn't looking…he knew what they were thinking…no smoke without fire.

Tim leaned against the wall and watched Director Vance handing out certificates and medals…was it really only ten days since he had been arrested? It seemed as if he had lived a lifetime in those ten days; and there was still something he had to do before he could draw a line under it all.

The last medal had been presented and the agents and staff were about to head back to work when the Director asked for quiet.

"Before you leave today, there is someone who would like to say a few words to everyone; would you come up here please Special Agent McGee?"

Tim slowly made his way to the front of the room, his hands started to sweat, and he could feel his mouth drying already, he had never been good at public speaking, but this was something he had to do.

"First of all, I would like to thank Director Vance for giving me the chance to speak to you all today…It…it has always been my life's ambition to be in law enforcement, and I was the proudest man alive when I was assigned to Gibbs' team. I feel like I have learned so much, become a good field agent…but I almost had it all taken away from me by Ian Neville, a bitter, twisted liar…These last days, I…I have seen the worst of law enforcement, and the best."

He smiled at Ziva.

"Neville tried to isolate me from my team, from my friends, but there was one person who didn't believe his lies, and she stood by me. Ziva David was my beacon of hope in the darkest days of my life, she wants me to stay...I know it's going to be tough...for the whole team…and maybe it's going to be tougher for some of you to accept me back here, to believe in my innocence."

Gibbs' team stood in silent admiration as their team mate opened his heart to these people; they didn't know where he was getting the strength to do this. It wasn't a new found strength, they could see that, it had always been there, they had just been too stupid, too hind bound to see it. They had lost sight of the fact that Tim McGee wasn't a raw probie any longer; he was a good, better than good field agent, and a much better than good friend.

"I know I've done nothing wrong, and if I leave now Neville gets exactly what he wanted, and I am not going to give him that satisfaction If you have something you want to say to me, come right out and say it, let's deal with things out in the open. And if you still don't think you can work with me around, I'm afraid you're going to have to suck it up people, because the only place I'm going is back to my desk."

Tim didn't want to look at the stunned faces in front of him; he walked briskly out of the conference room; he'd had enough of whispers and innuendo to last him a lifetime, no need to stay and listen to more. But, as the door closed behind him, it wasn't whispers he heard, it was applause...

THE END

_Character is like the tree and reputation like its shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing._ (Abraham Lincoln)

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